


Role Model

by thecarlysutra



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Babies, Baby Connor - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Makeup, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Angel have a discussion on parenting, and Spike settles everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role Model

  
Angel stood in the doorway, frozen in horror.

Buffy blinked up innocently from their bed. "What is the matter with you?"

Angel motioned, slackjawed, to his son, beside her.

"I," he said. "I—I . . . how could you?"

"I think you're overreacting," Buffy said.

"How _could you_?" Angel said. "He's . . . he's just a child!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Which is why this is so not a big deal. He was watching me put on my makeup, and he asked if he could have some, too."

Connor, his pudgy two-year-old face fully made up, grinned at his father.

"We were just _playing_ ," Buffy said. "It'll wash off."

Angel limped from the doorway to the bed, to get a closer look.

"It could . . . affect his development," he said.

"Oh, whatever," Buffy said. "He's not getting ready for a date; we're just _playing_. Children play."

Connor grabbed Buffy's blush brush in his chubby little fist, and began dusting it indiscriminately over his face. Angel's eyes rolled heavenward.

"But," he sputtered. "But tomorrow he could be . . . piercing his eyebrows, or bleaching his hair!"

Buffy blinked. "Wait. You're not upset about this because you're afraid it'll make him girly; you're upset because you're afraid it'll turn him into Spike?"

Angel closed his eyes to the pain.

"You really _are_ being crazy," Buffy said.

For a moment, as he strode down the hall, Spike was framed in the open doorway. His face was marred by smudged eyeliner and a crusty river of dried blood. His fist choked the neck of a bottle of tequila, mostly empty.

"Oy, love, Nancy. Rancid was great last night," he said. "You really should have come."

He finished the bottle, let it drop to the floor, and continued on his way.

Buffy met Angel's eyes.

"I'll wash Connor's face," she said.

Angel winced again. "Thank you."  



End file.
